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Post by Warrior of Aror on Oct 16, 2016 17:57:58 GMT
New tag! Just in case someone might not know, a tag is a series of questions which the person who is tagged will answer (sometimes as him/herself, or, if specified, role-playing as one of his/her fictional characters) and then tags someone else to answer on their own writing thread. So, I'm going to create this tag with 5 questions. Most of these are related to whatever writing project you're working on currently - if you aren't working on a book or short story now, that's fine, just think back to something you wrote recently. 1. What's your favorite book series? 2. How has that book/book series effected your own writing? 3. Did you consciously draw inspiration and/or stylization from that book? 4. How would you describe how your story feels in a few words? (i.e. C.S. Lewis wrote in his notes in preparation for writing the Voyage of the Dawn Treader "to be a green and pearly book.") 5. Of everything you've written to date, what are you most proud of? Post a link to it if it's already on the Underground (if not, share it if you'd like to!) I will tag Aviar Goldeneagle.
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Post by Aviar Goldeneagle on Oct 16, 2016 22:22:09 GMT
Okay, this should be fun to do.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Oct 30, 2016 2:35:10 GMT
A poem I promised to Dmitri I would post when completed. This is the fourth full version I've written. I spent several days working on it. And though it still isn't great, it's the finest poem I've written to date.
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WHY OWL ASKS 'WHO?'
The owl lived in an ancient tree His eyes glowed with yellow luminosity And he would often adjust and fiddle With the belt round his middle; Most fearsome were his talons long. Silence stood as he watched the Wood, For he was no average bird - he had no song.
He watched the night so thickly black; He heard the old pines shiver And cocked his crooked ear thither. For on westward wind came deathly cries. 'What-what? What-what?' Asked Owl, and search with narrowed eyes.
From lonely moor to rustling bough Came a haunting, hopeless howl To frighten weary Owl. It trailed away to a hollow sigh. 'Where-where? Where-where?' Was the quivering bird's reply.
Owl wrapped his wings around himself. He shriveled at the cold, cold sound Of an Arrival in one swift bound.
'I am Moorthing,' it said. 'Hunter, never hunted; seeker, never sought. Teeth of Stone, heart of bone, I am deadlier than Dragon's breath hot. Come down, little Owl, pretty please.' Seized by fear Owl jumped from the trees. Out of his mind Owl merely stuttered - 'Who-who? Who-who?' He kicked from the branch and away he fluttered.
From then on Owl has cried: 'Who? Who?' For his wits were fried full through!
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Dec 31, 2016 17:14:42 GMT
I'm not sure how to insert an image. But you can right click on the image and click open image in new tab. It's an illustration I made.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Feb 8, 2017 3:49:08 GMT
I've reached quintuple digits in draft #2!
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Post by Lylyss on Feb 8, 2017 4:03:41 GMT
Huzzah! :) That's quite an accomplishment.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Feb 8, 2017 7:01:39 GMT
Congratulations! I used to tell myself that I was committed to finish a book when I reached 10,000 words. Since I've been working on the same book for a long time now, I haven't thought of that for a long time.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Feb 9, 2017 1:49:27 GMT
Lylyss Thanks, Lylyss! Dmitri Pendragon I guess you never told yourself you were committed to finishing short stories, then. XD I'm not surprised to hear you say that your previous struggles of committing to a project are inconsequential with the Teller's Apprentice. I feel the same with Out of the Shadowlands. I've invested too much - and I believe in this project too much - to let my mood swings deter me from seeing this project to the finish.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Feb 9, 2017 3:02:17 GMT
Hah, yeah. I've never been a good short story writer. My outlines usually yield long books.
Well, as of today I'm over halfway to 10K. I just finished writing for the day. I feel as though I've just emerged from a very deep place. The intensity at which my mind is working has yet to fade.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Feb 9, 2017 16:14:27 GMT
I think I know what you mean. It is a good feeling. For me it is one of the reasons I find writing rewarding. Writing is painful, but it is tremendously rewarding.
You are writing at a much faster rate than I am at the moment. I only wrote a few sentences yesterday because I was focusing on editing video. Today I hope to do better.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Mar 8, 2017 14:31:16 GMT
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Post by Ellron Silvertree on Mar 8, 2017 19:42:23 GMT
Dude that's so cool! I didn't listen to much because I just don't have the time right now, but I liked what I heard and it's awesome that you have a podcast! I've been thinking of getting into media entertainment, but I haven't really figured out what to do yet. I also have poor time management skills xP
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Mar 11, 2017 17:12:37 GMT
Ellron Silvertree Thanks for expressing interest! I can empathize with the time management problems, hehe. If you do get into media I would love to see what you come up with. Figuring out what to actually do can be one of the hardest parts because it's a bit... abstract? But it's essential for everything else. Having a good vision for what you want to make is what will make the difference between it fizzling out after two weeks versus staying committed to it and (hopefully, eventually) reaping the rewards from it. ALSO. It's Saturday. Which means a new Indie Hoot podcast is out. It is on how you write a meaningful story; how to connect emotionally with an audience. indiehootpodcast.weebly.com/home/christian-media
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Mar 18, 2017 22:48:00 GMT
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Mar 22, 2017 1:23:27 GMT
This is unrelated to the current happenings on your thread, Warrior, but I've been thinking about one of the stories you wrote and posted on the old Underground. The one with the foreign names and the sorcerer in the tomb and—what I remember best—the baby with "grief filling his eyes" at one stage. I'd like to read it again.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Mar 22, 2017 1:52:57 GMT
"'Bambam?' Daki chuckled. 'Okay, yeah, I guess you don't know how to talk.' Grief clouded the baby's eyes, and he shouted most indignantly, 'Bambam!'"
XD I had to search the deeps of my laptop to find that again. I had completely forgotten that line of the story. Looking back on it I can see even more how I was influenced by (and I knew this at the time in part) a TV show I really enjoyed at the time. As well as CaC2, of course, which has had a strongly rooted influence on my writings.
I can post the story here again or send it to you in a file. I think I'll post it on here. I'll read over it again and post it chapter by chapter (possibly with some slight editing for your reading ease).
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Mar 22, 2017 3:18:56 GMT
YES. That is the line I remember best. The idea that made me think of it again. That the baby thought he wasn't being taken seriously. What is that, The Last Airbender? I thought it had a similar feel. Or Legend of Korra? Looking forward to it!
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Mar 23, 2017 2:36:17 GMT
Yes, The Last Airbender. Have you seen it? I recently discovered that the same guy who was the main showrunner of the Star Wars Clone Wars and Rebels series also directed several Airbender episodes.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Mar 23, 2017 4:13:46 GMT
No, I haven't seen The Last Airbender, but I've heard a lot about it from members of the Underground, particularly the Arvell clan—Elethia and Aarathyn and I think a few more.
Huh. Is that Dave Filoni? I've seen his name plenty of times on Wookieepedia from reading the Rebels and CW episode summaries.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Mar 24, 2017 2:30:34 GMT
Yep, Dave Filoni. Which makes sense because both shows are adventure cartoons, but they both can appeal to somewhat older audiences. They're some of the few kids' cartoons which aren't painful to watch.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Mar 24, 2017 6:13:15 GMT
I sense an immense backstory of suffering in that last sentence.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Mar 25, 2017 2:31:22 GMT
Yep. XD
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Apr 1, 2017 18:01:15 GMT
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Apr 18, 2017 23:32:52 GMT
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Apr 26, 2017 2:11:36 GMT
The heat swelled up in Daki's hand. His eyes fluttered open, as a single flicker tossed in his hand. It disappeared from his tattooed palm instantly, and his shoulders fell.
The muffled hisses from behind the door broke into shouts. Daki stumbled back against the wall, trying again to ignite a flame – but each time with a more and more pitiful result. The voices shattered his concentration and his resolve.
“You're his father, you're supposed to support him!” A woman slammed a fist on a table. It's supports shattered with a simple crack.
“He's not ready, Miamichu. How can I support that?” The woman's husband kicked at the destroyed table. There wasn't a hint of surprise on his face at the power she had just exerted. “Not ready? Then when will he be ready?”
“I don't know!” he shouted back. He turned around and began pacing, hands on hips. Miamichu whirled around, black walnut hair rolling behind, not wanting to look at her husband a moment longer. “Don't let him fail like his grandfather.”
“You think I want a curse like that on him? NO! But what choice do we have? Do you want me to send him off to the Masters before he's ready? He'll die in exhaustion from the warming up exercises.” “He's fourteen for earth's sake,” Miamichu snapped.
“And he has the strength of a five year old!”
Daki curled up against the wall. He tried to hide from the shouting voices just outside his door, but they wouldn't go away. He rubbed his palms into his face. He wasn't crying. He wasn't crying. daki glanced down at his hands through blurred eyes. They were damp, but not wet.
He stood up and began to pace around the circular room. He composed himself, straightened his shoulders and rubbed under his eyes. But the words kept beating in his mind. “He's not ready,” “Don't let him fail like his grandfather,” “He has the strength of a five year old!”
I can cast fire, I can make water, I can control earth. What more does he want? He took in heaving breaths and tried to steady his jumping emotions. He glanced down at a jittering palm. A black tattoo of fire and water and earth bulged in the center. With a motion of his hand a flick of fire sparked. He fisted his hand – the fire was supposed to go out, but it merely burnt his hand. Daki grimaced. His father was right. He wasn't ready. The fire in his palm continued to lick his bare skin. He would never be ready.
Chapter I Pāto II
Daki held up a hand torch in the bare of his palm, piercing the darkness of the cave.
“Keep it up, Daki,” said Warrior Talzari.
Daki focused harder on the burning flame in his mind. Consequently, the real one hovering above his palm flared up, casting longer but shallower shadows across the stalagmite and stalactite pillars of a natural underground palace. And so with the shadows went Daki's strength. Flame had always been the hardest to make for him, but that gave no excuse to be exhausted, especially from the simplest of Fire Way tricks like the hand torch.
Two dozen Jinnas between the ages of six and twelve wandered behind, following only the occasional order of keeping up. They each held in their own palms spurts of hand torches – in Yari's case, claws of flame spurting from his fingernails. Truly an arrogant show off.
As if in response to Daki's scowl behind him, Yari pounced up and waved his whip-like claws in Daki's face. “Yari!” Daki stepped back – straight into Talzari. The warrior didn't seem to mind much, aside from a cautionary glance at Daki and Yari.
“Keep up, Little Ones,” Talzari's dry voice echoed.
Daki growled inside. Little Ones. Jinnas. What more of an embarrassing title could you get?
Yari was smirking up at him - Daki just knew it. He could feel it. He glanced over towards the twelve year old. His revolting little face sat smugly on top of his fat neck as always. Daki turned away with a growl. Did he even know how not to smirk?
Talzari paced through the cave a little faster, forming a hand torch for himself. He suddenly came to a stop. “Jinnas, these are the burial grounds of ancient chiefs, the Resting of the Kings. Twelve kings were buried here, and as you may recall-” Talzari's voice suddenly dropped from an introductory one to a monotone speech. The Jinnas dispersed in an instant to explore the cavern and the tombs. Daki found himself alone, watching Talzari's mouth open and close – the warrior falling into a stupor of boredom from his own words. Talzari, though he was a warrior, was still young enough to be a graduate, and that made him less than happy to babysit Jinnas all day.
Daki followed behind Yari, towards the rows of the buried kings on either side of the hall. On the right was King Honoka, the twelfth king. On the left was the eleventh king, Ichirou. Again on the right came the tenth king, Junko. Daki smiled at a parchment painting above the entrance to the burial room of the tenth king. Junko's bulging plump cheeks and nine-times rippling chin reminded him of the thirteenth and current king – Shiro.
Past Junko were the ninth, eighth, and seventh kings – Shinobu, La'tan, and Kai Mun. But there they stopped, barred by two teeth-like stalactites and a heap of stones behind, as though that was the end of the lineage of the kings.
Daki turned to Talzari, but hesitated as he was still talking. Then, figuring Talzari would be relieved for a break, Daki puffed up his chest and spoke out. “Warrior Talzari,” he pointed to the blockage, “What happened there?”
Talzari took in a breath. “Sadly a cave-in blocked us from the other tombs, and even our skilled Earth Way masters could not move it. Strange, but their memory will not be forgotten.”
Daki turned back to the blocked passage and swirled his fingers around in his short, spiked hair. The oldest six kings were forever trapped. Well. So very disappointing.
He turned back to the tombs and entered Kai Mun's chamber. The door, made of a solid hardwood, had a mighty lock and bolt on it, but was open for the Little Ones' tour. He poked his head inside the door and reached out for the edge of the tomb. The stone was smooth like finely sanded diamonds. Daki swept his hand across the tomb lid. He lifted his hand – it was coated in furry gray dust. Where he had brushed away the dust, he saw engravings depicting great moments of Kai's life.
His hand bumped against the thick locks on the tomb lid. It was held with four bolts. Why so heavily protected? Was someone trying to get in? And anyway, who would want to steal old bones?
Daki fiddled with one of the bolt locks. It unlocked with a click. Strange. It seemed like just anyone could open the lid from the outside, but not from the inside. Like a cage. Daki gave a quick glance back. Talzari was over by La'tan's tomb, talking to an indifferent Yari.
Daki quickly turned back to the tomb and slid open the second bolt. No harm in taking a peak – for educational purposes of course. He tried to get a hold on the seamless lid, but it weighed like an ox. Daki couldn't even get a fingernail between the stone lid and the coffin. He sighed and gave up. Truth was – Talzari probably wouldn't like him nosing around it anyway. But maybe with a few tools he could open the lid next time he returned. Daki grinned in satisfaction with his new plan. He nearly skipped out of the room and closed the door behind him, bolting the door shut.
Talzari was clearly bored with himself and the Resting of the Kings. He made a hand torch in his palm and pointed towards the cave exit. “Alright, Jinnas, follow me.” The Little Ones gathered around him, disappointed they were leaving already. “Ty, where are you? Ah, there. Yari? There you are. Come over here.” Talzari tapped his foot a moment as Yari pretended to not hear him. “Yari, get over here now.” He turned back to the group. “Daki?” he went on counting up the Jinnas, then started off, and the disorganized retreat out of the tunnel began.
Chapter I Pāto III
That night it was the same argument all over again. Daki held his cotton blanket tight over his ears, but the shouts cut through and tore his consciousness. Everything just got worse when his grandfather was brought into the argument by some twist of sickly luck. The subject was a sore wound – still bleeding from his own actions – and salt was being thrown into it every night.
Daki threw off his blanket and paced step by step around his room, just in shorts. It was too warm to use a blanket anyway. He sat back down on his bed cross-legged and leaned his chin against the round window frame A slight breath of wind unsettled his stuffy room. It would be good to get outside for a moment, to be able to breathe freely in the quiet.
He glanced back at his door. The argument, hardly muffled by the wall, barked on endlessly. He could slip away and spend the whole night outside without detection, from the sound of it. And outside there would be no worries, no threatening voices. Only him and the vast jungle.
He reached for the window and started to pull himself out, but hesitated. He shrugged and jumped out anyway. He'd decided what he was going to do. Why back down now?
Daki's feet landed on the lush grass, a spider being pinned under his bare heel until it escaped and scampered away. He turned back and reached back in his window and grabbed an iron file. It might come in handy later.
The village was a jagged dell, with stony outcroppings that protected the community from the wilderness outside. Like the crater of an ancient meteorite, all shadowed in the darkness of night. Daki glanced up to the jungle woods around and above. Trees two or three times the height of an oak stood shadowed, their outlines painted across the dark purplish night sky in an ever circling ring around the clearing. The moon peaked brightly through one of the trees' giant boughs.
Sprinting out of the village, he climbed the embankment and began to make his way through the jungle. He stretched out his arms and nicked the tree trunks as fresh air flushed past him. The trees were coated in a waxy bark – Olum Wax – which protected them against any foraging beasts or natural woes that might normally harm them. The Olum was slick against his fingers, but not wet or sticky.
On the left rose stubby Kinamar Mountain, which on its northern side held the Resting of the Kings. But that was at least three miles away from the village, and outside the Jinnas' boundaries, which a Little One was only allowed to pass if they had a warrior to go with them. Daki stumbled up to a line of red and white, gleaming in the dark. He kicked at it with some contempt. The boundary was a line of red and white spotted mushrooms. Daki glanced back towards the village. In the dark, he couldn't see the village, but he knew that if it were day time a few huts would be visible around the trees.
He looked back down to the ring of mushrooms that went on all around the village. How was that even fair, that a fourteen year old – even though he was still technically a Jinna – couldn't cross the line by himself? Yari and the others had done it as a dare dozens of times, and they weren't dead. So why couldn't he?
Yari hadn't gotten away with it entirely; Warrior Minuki had given the Jinna a strict lesson at the end of a stick. But after all, Yari was just twelve, and still legitimately a Young One. I'm fourteen, and I'm stronger than all the other Jinnas combined. I could fend off any one of the beasts outside this ring alone.
Daki puffed up his chest and took a large step across the ring. But he held a moment, his foot hovering above the ground. The imaginary images of Shikuroras and Jikokus – deathcrawlers and darkbeings – reawakened old haunts in Daki's mind. The Shikuroras shaggy black fur, the Jikokus glistening claws. They were not something he wanted to imagine – let alone meet out in the jungle.
Then the memories of Jinnas – his youngers – mocking him for being afraid to step over the line threatened his dignity.
Daki suddenly slammed his foot on the ground on the other side of the line, crushing a few mushrooms beneath. There. A silence followed. He took in a deep breath. No harm done.
He walked a few feet out of the circle and glanced back over his shoulder. What was so different from the outside of the ring, anyway? Rumors were rumors – and older people had lied to him before. Maybe this whole jungle beast thing was a lot of chaff. Sure, there were undoubtedly creatures out there, but – legends had a tendency to outgrow the truth over the ages. At least that sounded like a wise thing to say. Daki took a confident step forward, north, towards the Resting of the Kings. He wanted to see what really had happened around that cave-in – and why the Earth Way masters themselves couldn't move it. In his mind a drifting image of himself, alone and unaided, pushing through the barrier and being promptly celebrated as a hero in all the jungle. A smile touched his face. That was a good thought.
Daki reached the edge of the plateau to the Resting of the Kings in an hour. He had remembered the paths Talzari had led earlier, and they afforded him a swifter pace to the mountain's edge, from where he had to force his way up against the slope along a rugged path. But when he finally reached the top, it was worth it. There the cave entrance was guarded by stone statues of a half cougar half man at each side. Faceted diamonds glinted in their unblinking eyes.
Between the two statues, the cave was blocked with a gate. Daki ran his hand up the solid wood, across the iron strips. Smooth and well kept after. It bore mystical words engraved along the edges. Was it protected by some blessing? Surely no one could just walk in without at least a key.
His eyes strained against the darkness, searching for a keyhole. His hope of searching those old tombs again began to vanish. He hadn't payed attention to what Talzari had done to gain access. Magic words? Magic lock? Daki waved his fingers in rhythm, summoning an orange flame in his hand. The doors were cast in flickering light, the metal strips glistening, still no keyhole or lock. There wasn't even a ring to pull against the mighty door with.
Daki's shoulders sank. It was another hour long trek back to the village. Hopefully his parents hadn't entered his room. A depressing loom grew in his heart. It would be just another dishonor for him to carry, being caught outside the ring. And since when had he become disobedient? He always hated the word – but it held more validity within than he wanted to take credit for.
He sat down against the gate with a sigh. There really was good reason not to let him go to the Masters for apprenticeship. Never to become anything more than a Jinna. His eyes burned and his vision blurred. Remaining a Jinna raised other thoughts.
Grandpa was a good guy . . . but Daki had always held an immense feeling of pity for him. And he'd vowed again and again never to end up like him. But was he really never going to amount to anyth- The support behind Daki began to slide away. His thoughts and concentration on creating a hand torch were broken. Darkness enveloped him in blinding speed. He jumped to his feet and spun around. The eyes of the cougar-men reflected the light of the jewel moon in the sky. The hundred sided eyes shone in all directions. A shiver took Daki by the spine. But it wasn't the animals' all seeing eyes that disturbed Daki. It was the one gate door that now stood half open. A never ending darkness spilled out. No key? No lock? No blessing to hold the doors fast?
Daki reignited his hand torch and stepped carefully into the cave. The shadows scampered further back. The emptiness made no sound to confront him. Just the whisper of wind through the airy passageways. Silence – and then a great wolf's howl echoed through; Daki jumped. Could a shikurora be haunting the caves at night? He pushed the door behind him, but dared not close it completely for the risk of being trapped inside forever. Silver moonlight sliced through the crack between the doors, sparkling off a thousand particles of drifting dust.
Daki continued to inch into the caves. A split off to the left threatened his sense of direction. But all the paths led down – and if he did get lost, he would know to take the path that led up. That would surely bring him to the gates.
The cave breathed cold mountain air through its veins of grainy rock – no stiff and murky air to suffocate the sleeping kings. But who said the dead needed to use their lungs anyway? They needed nothing more than a hole in the ground and dirt to cover it up with. Daki bit his tongue. Such thoughts were disrespectful to the silent souls – especially since they were kings.
Relying heavily on Talzari's leading earlier, Daki found the cavern that held the tombs. Eternal torches burned on either side of the doors to the kings' coffins. Daki swiped out his hand torch and the flame went out in a puff of smoke. Then taking in a quick breath, he advanced towards the rubble of the ancient cave-in. Autumn's wispy breeze suddenly ran like a current through the cavern. Not from the cracks and passageways that led to the cavern – but somewhere in the cavern itself a blast of wind snatched out the flames of the wall torches.
A chilling whisper echoed through the cavern. Daki pulled his shirt closer and strained against the darkness. An unnatural presence constricted the air around him. Like the suffocating hold of the water grip. At one side of the cavern, an old door that stood guard over one of the kings began to shake. Daki took a step back. An imaginary pack of shikuroras crushed down the door and charged at him. He shook his head. The forms of the shikuroras began to fade into the darkness, but the door just shook harder – in sync with a growing bang. Something ferocious fought against the door. An overpowering something. With each rattling bang, the hinges threatened to break. Every time Daki thought he would see the creature behind finally break through. But each time the doors held. How much more could mere iron and wood take? It sounded like the might of a dragon beating against it.
Then it began to slow down, its pounding dramatically weakened. A minute passed, and a silence rung over the caves.
And then a shuddering and painful voice. “Help me . . .” A woman's. A woman's?! Daki's defensiveness shattered. He took another step back, alarmed, but no longer threatened.
“Please . . . I hear someone out there . . .” the woman rasped. “Please!” Her voice drew out into a painful cough.
Daki's foot instinctively searched forwards. She needed his help. But how did she get stuck there? And . . . how could she hit the door so hard? She must have been a member of the village – someone with knowledge of the Strength Way.
A hand thumped against the door – this time weakly. Daki stumbled to the door of the seventh king, Kai Mun's tomb. The same one he had explored earlier with Talzari and the Jinnas. Somewhere behind there that poor woman was trapped. He gripped the bolts and unlocked them with a click. Finally he gripped the iron ring and pulled on the door with all his strength. The door swung open with a low creak. And a blast of rotting cold air struck him in the face.
Daki sputtered back, rubbing his hands across his face and pinching his nose at the odor. The door suddenly cracked, and with flying splinters fell to rubble. Daki tripped over a jut in the floor and fell to the ground. His tattooed palm sprung to life with a spark, but it was snuffed out by the unearthly wind in an instant. A moment's light, only enough to see the figure of a form standing at the doorway. A woman? Daki's eyes widened as he regained his standing. That was no woman. The faint silhouette began morphing into something far different.
The voice of a wolf laughed. Two eyes, black as the rest of the cave, glinted in an unseen light. “Your senses are of little use to you, Mortal One. For they fail you like a bitten hind leg. Chop it off! Rid yourself from weakness before the poison spreads.” The voice guffawed in its taunts. “Your senses are easily tricked. You are no better than the rest.”
“Wh-who are you?!” Daki squeaked, betrayed by his voice in a hopeless demand.
There came no reply. The swirling underground winds only increased. And then a gray fire stormed to life, lying in the hand of scratched and knobby bones. The shadow light revealed a figure standing before him. It was a ghost! It was the fleshy skeleton of a man. Six feet tall, pasty bones, encased in a black and red ragged cloak. And worst of all, mounted on top, a bare skull, and two onyx eyes staring out.
The jaw of the skull was furred gray as it ground against itself as it talked. “As a mortal, I was Kai Mun. Now I am Kai Kami, the wolf of the dead.” The bits of flesh across the sharpened teeth formed a revolting grin. The dancing ball of gray fire went out.
“Thank you for releasing me, O My Pawn of Simplemindedness, you are as a right paw to me. Now watch as the demons of our world be released once again. I shall free my brethren.” The deathly black eyes looked toward the cave in. Daki had no more sense than to run. Run from the beast. And run from one petrifying thought. What have I done?
------
So there's the first chapter of the Daki story that I promised I would post. I enjoyed reading it again to see how my writing has improved or changed. Since then my prose has become less awkwardly structured and more stylized. Daki's story has more focus on action and character development (even if it was crudely done) than my current novel, which is more focused on theme, atmosphere, and narrative flow. I hope to better combine those five aspects of story into one cohesive piece in the future.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on May 2, 2017 14:30:14 GMT
Here's a game (sort of a twist on the character drawing game that NightBlade and several others were doing a little while ago). Ask me to draw a picture of one of your own characters. I'll draw him/her/it (high quality drawing skills not promised) and then post it so that you can see how I imagine your characters. So for anyone who wishes, go ahead and ask for which of your characters you'd like to see.
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Post by Lylyss on May 2, 2017 15:36:32 GMT
Here's a game (sort of a twist on the character drawing game that NightBlade and several others were doing a little while ago). Ask me to draw a picture of one of your own characters. I'll draw him/her/it (high quality drawing skills not promised) and then post it so that you can see how I imagine your characters. So for anyone who wishes, go ahead and ask for which of your characters you'd like to see. :D I'd likely to see you draw Kazadan. ;) Would you like me to draw one of your characters too?
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Post by Warrior of Aror on May 2, 2017 18:50:30 GMT
Kazadan! I shall enjoy this. If you would like to draw one of my characters I'd love it!
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Post by Ellron Silvertree on May 3, 2017 8:09:00 GMT
Ooh, this sounds like fun! Unfortunately I don't remember any of my own characters, haha. I'll have to go find one. I think the only one who really lasted all that long was Cypher? Maybe?
Just curious, are you doing headshots or full bodies?
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Post by Warrior of Aror on May 3, 2017 13:50:12 GMT
I think I'll do full bodies. I'll draw Cypher up for ya!
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